"A relocation spell to remove us from this accursed thing. It seems to have proven ineffective. Obviously." It's said with a spiteful edge. Having one of his spells thwarted is as good as having been verbally insulted.

"I suppose that means I must resort to a more direct method." With a flick of his wrist he summons a sizable mage's staff. It is black with intricate silver trimming and a large sphere of reflective purple glass on the end.

Emet-Selch looks to his newest acquaintance. "I would suggest you stand back."